Scars of the Sin'dorei
by exsomet
Summary: One fateful night in Ashenvale, Kalunaa made a choice. It wasn't a choice she would have expected herself to make - Blood Elves and Night Elves don't usually mix - and yet she did. And for her courage, fate handed her pain, hatred, and anguish - but it also helped her grow and prepare for the life she never knew she would have. Contains Violence/Torture - Not strictly cannon.


" _My lord?"_

A tired looking Blood Elf with flowing white hair looked up from the mass of papers scattered across his desk.

"Yes?" he asked, unable to fully turn his attention away from the reports.

He hadn't even noticed the first two times the guard had called out to him, drawing the concern that was now evident in the sentry's voice.

"Someone here to see you." said the guard cautiously. "He says you're expecting him."

"I'm not aware of any visitors this evening." Replied the white-haired elf dismissively.

"He asked me to show you this." Said the guard, holding out a small ring.

Annoyed, the lord raised his head, pausing for a moment to weigh the distraction.

Slowly, he took the ring and turned it over in his hand. It was old and weathered, but it looked strangely familiar. He sensed that he had seen one like it before somewhere, but… _where_?

It had been a piece of fine jewelry once, but whoever owned it had long since stopped caring for it. The silver band had lost its shine and started to corrode and the settings on either side had cracked, leaving only hollow gaps where there had once been tiny jewels.

Taking the ring between his fingers, he held it up to the candlelight. The missing gems formed a half circle on each side of the ring, surrounding a small symbol etched into the top. A long, thin tail molded in the shape of a flame circled outer edge of the settings before cresting at the top of the ring.

His eyes drew down to the emblem emblazoned in the center of it and as they did, his blood froze.

He dropped the ring on his desk and jumped to his feet, his heart racing.

"My lord! What is it?" called the guard, stepping forward as one hand instinctively flew to the hilt of his sword.

The elf held up his hand, halting the shuffle of reinforcements heard outside the door as he slowly regained his composure. He stood still for a long moment before carefully picking up the ring, peering at the design once more.

It was there. Tiny, but intricate and undeniable.

Engraved in the ring was a winged bird bathed in fire.

 _A phoenix._

"Show this visitor in." he said solemnly.

The guard hesitated, unsure whether to be concerned at his master's odd behavior.

"Now." Said the lord sharply.

"Right away" said the guard, quickly stepping back to the door.

The elf carefully placed the ring on his desk before stepping over to the window that looked out over the city and gazing out.

A cold wind rustled through the air, and he took a few deep breaths to calm himself. It had started as only a breeze earlier, but the Mages had warned him about the storm that it foretold.

His mind raced; he had not seen the ring of the traitor-prince in a long time. So long in fact, that he had thought it lost with its master. Kael'thas had spoken of its reappearance to him years ago, before his betrayal, but after all this time?

"Lor'themar Theron" called a slow, rasping voice from the doorway.

The Regent Lord of Silvermoon turned to his visitor but remained silent.

The shadowy figure was hunched forward, and wore a ragged cloak that wrapped around his entire body. In one hand was an old walking stick, decorated with small trinkets. Like its owner, it bore signs of age.

Lor'themar Theron watched as his guest – an aged arakkoa - hobbled into the room.

"I can see," said the creature, pointing to the ring as he spoke, "that you remember what that is."

Each word took came out slow and deep, sounding as if it took great effort and he paused frequently to take deep, pained breaths.

Lor'themar Theron said nothing.

"The day has come" the figure said quietly.

As the arakkoa spoke, his gaze steadied on the ring where it lay. Every sentence took great effort from him, but the words carried a hint of excitement.

"Who?" asked the regent-lord simply.

"In time, you will know." Said the visitor, never lifting his gaze from the ring.

Lor'themar Theron shifted uneasily.

"This is not a matter to mask in riddles and games." Said the elf brashly.

"All things must come to pass in their own hour." replied the arakkoa cryptically.

Suddenly the shadowy figure's head snapped up, his eyes locking with the blood elf as he raised a pale, bony claw at him. When he spoke again, his voice remained a scratchy rasp but suddenly carried a power to it that reverberated off the stone walls.

"Prepare yourself and your people." He said. "There are trials yet to be passed before this journey meets its end."

In the blink of an eye, the mysterious visitor was gone, the only trace of him a small wisp of dark smoke which quickly faded away.

Lor'themar Theron stared at the spot where his guest had stood moments ago as the first sounds of thunder cracked through the air and raindrops began to patter against the window.

His mind raced, echoing the words he had just heard.

 _The day has come._

 _Prepare yourself and your people._

Could it be true?

"My lord?" came a voice from the doorway. "Is everything ok?"

Lor'themar Theron stared down at the ring, lost in thought.

 _There are trials yet to be passed before this journey meets its end._

"Yes." He said slowly, still replaying the figure's words.

"For now."


End file.
